


Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5

by Marvelgeek42



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - World War I, BAMF Women, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Cahokia, Exploring, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gryffindor & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, Infidelity, Lily and James are just barely there, M/M, Matilda inspired, Paranoia, Post-Goblet of Fire, Pre-Canon, Pre-Order of the Phoenix, Regulus Black Lives, Suicide, Unreliable Narrator, WHERE DID THIS COME FROM, i don't know where the slight ship came from, it just sort of happened, long period of time, many people one place, not even i know when this takes place, or the start of one, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgeek42/pseuds/Marvelgeek42
Summary: A collection of oneshots with no connection other than the fact that they are all written for the QLFC on FFN.





	1. Alone

_There's a light on in the attic._

_Thought the house is dark and shuttered,_

_I can see a flickerin' flutter,_

_And I know what it's about._

_There's a light on in the attic._

_I can see it from the outside._

_And I know you're on the inside... lookin' out._

_~Shel Silverstein_

* * *

Alone. Completely and utterly alone.

That’s how she felt after Cedric died. Like there was no one else on this planet that shared her pain, no one to support her, no one that truly cared.

Logically, she knew that this wasn’t entirely correct, but since when did the rules of logic ever apply to emotions, particularly those like grief?

So, on an intellectual level, Cho understood that there were people, like her family and her closest friends, that were willing to support her, but Cho just wanted to be alone.

And so she removed herself from her family that summer, choosing to spend her time wandering around aimlessly or reading alone in the attic, as opposed to the many trips her parents had planned to make with her and her siblings.

They understood that Cho needed some time to herself, and let her stay home alone while they drove to parks and shows with her siblings. They made sure that she took care of herself and spent at least a hour or two in total every day talking to someone else, but other than that they gave her the space she needed.

And Cho was very thankful for it. She knew that she would only drag everyone’s mood down if she were to tag along, which was not something she would want to do. It wasn’t her siblings’ fault that she was suffering, after all. It wouldn’t do for her to ruin their holiday as well.

As a consequence, she became a lot more familiar with the attic, the place where she was most likely to remain undisturbed.

They had a rather nice attic, if she may say so. There was a big window that allowed her to overlook the small river behind her house and the apple and cherry trees that were scattered on the other side of it. There weren’t quite enough of them to call it a wood or forest, but there woulödn’t be many more trees until such a description would work.

Cho liked to sit in the corner out that window and look outside for hours upon hours, letting her thoughts and mind wander as she observed the wildlife or read a book. More often than not, she had a blanket draped over her and a cup of tea or hot chocolate nearby.

It made the pain bearable. Usually, at least.

There was no simple way for the pain to stop, no off switch for her emotions or something, but Cho knew that she had a right to cry.

Her boyfriend, her sweet, wonderful boyfriend, had died. Cedric was gone, no longer with them and there wasn’t even a good reason for it. Cedric hadn’t done anything—he never would, that just wasn’t him—he had simply _been there_ from what she knew.

It wasn’t fair or right, that much was obvious. She had heard before that You-Know-Who’s regime had been painful and that you didn’t know who you could trust, but she had never truly understood what it meant.

Now she did and she didn’t like the implications and consequences at all. If Cedric—possibly the sweetest boy that had attended Hogwarts last year, a true Hufflepuff in every sense of the word—could die without warning, then so could she. So could her siblings, her parents, her friends. Everyone could be taken from them at a moment’s notice.

And that prospect was nothing if not terrifying. Somehow, most of her friends still failed to understand that concept, despite the prime example they had been given. Maybe they didn’t want to think about it—which would be understandable, if she was being honest, but still she needed someone to talk to about this. Her siblings were out of the equation without a second thought—she was the oldest, she couldn’t do that to them—and catching her parents without a risk of any of her siblings hearing bordered on the impossible.

She would talk to Marietta, the one friend that seemed to understand, but she knew that her friend’s mom was in danger of losing her job at the Ministry and Cho didn’t want to stress her any more.

So she suffered alone. Alone, in the attic. With only her books to support her, to take her mind away from the worries and grief.

One evening, not far into the holidays, she again sat there, at her usual spot. The sun was already setting and Cho had lightened a candle to be able to read, but she ended up staring out of the window instead.

Thus, she was able to spot the snow white owl that was headed in her direction fairly quickly. At first she suspected that it was a letter for her parents or one of her siblings, but when the owl didn’t head downwards as it got nearer to the house, Cho knew that the letter was intended for her. Owls had that weird ability to tell where people were located.

She was only knew one person with a snowy owl that had any reason to contact her. Harry Potter. The boy who had seen Cedric die. The only one who had that wasn’t also part of the reason that it happened.

Cho opened the window for the owl to get through and took the letter from her as soon as the animal landed in front of her.

_Hello Cho,_

_It’s me, Harry. I hope that you don’t mind me writing to you, but I thought that maybe you understand what is going through my head._

_Or maybe not, since I’m not even sure I do._

_To be honest, I wouldn’t normally do this, but Hermione and Ron aren’t really replying to my letters and over that past year I’ve learned that it’s not good to bottle everything up until it explodes, figuratively speaking._

_Since I could never consider going to my relatives with this outside of a joke and, as I mentioned, Ron and Hermione aren’t replying, I needed someone else to talk to, someone who would understand._

_If you don’t want to talk about this with me, it’s fine, but you were the first person to come to my mind. Even if you don’t want to talk about this, could you please write a reply, so that I know?_

_Awaiting a reply,_

_Harry_

Cho wiped the single tear that had escaped away with her sleeve and turned towards the owl.

“Mind waiting overnight? This reply might be a bit longer.”

The owl gave an affirmative hoot and somehow managed to look approving.

With a small smile on her face, Cho began to look for a quill and some parchment. Maybe she had found someone to talk to. Maybe she wouldn’t need to be alone any longer.


	2. The Affair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst thing was that he did not regret his choice, not really.

After the Second Wizarding War, when he was already settled with Hermione Granger as his wonderful wife — what he had ever done to deserve her, he would never know — and two beautiful children, Rose and Hugo, was when Ronald Bilius Weasley made the biggest mistake he had ever made and would ever make.

Hermione was working late in the night once more — she had predicted she might sleep at the office and that was fine, as long as he knew and didn’t have to worry — and Ron had just managed to get Rose and Hugo to fall asleep after an hour or struggle when there was a knock on the door.

With a frown on his face, he went towards the door and answered it.

He didn’t know what he had expected — Hermione to arrive home earlier, Harry or one of his other friends wanting something or other — but this was definitely not it.

Lavender Carter nee Brown, his old girlfriend from sixth year, was standing in front of him, apparently not caring about the rain that was falling from above, drenching her and ruining her make up. And that was something, considering who he was observing here.

“I’m sorry to bother you at home. I’m afraid I don’t know where else to go,” she said. She sounded hoarse, like she had been crying and screaming for days on end. “Since the Patils are in India and all…”

“Come in,” he replied, moving away from the door to let her through. As she entered his house, Ron was able to notice the bruises on her neck she was trying to hide with her scarf. Bruises in the shape of hands…

“How can I help you?” he questioned. 

“You’re too kind,” she spoke so quietly that he wasn’t quite sure he hadn’t imagined it. Lavender shook her head, as if she was trying to banish a thought before she continued. “It’s Nicolas…”

“Your husband?” Ron prompted when she didn’t speak another word for a minute.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“What’s he doing?”

Lavender gulped. “He-he doesn’t like the fact that I’m writing for the  _ Witch Weekly _ . Or that I still have the scars from Greyback. Or the habits and instincts that follow from it...He doesn’t really like a lot of thing about me and he makes that  _ very  _ clear,” she explained slowly, tears in her eyes.

It takes a moment until Ron grasped the full meaning of that statement. “You mean he- he hurts you?”

“In more ways than one,” she confirmed.

There is a second of silence as Ron tried to think of ways to help. He couldn’t let this continue. Lavender was such a nice girl — woman, he corrected himself—and she didn’t deserve to go through such a pain.

“How about you stay here for the night and then we work out where to go from there?” he proposed.

Her face lit up and she fell around his neck. “Oh, thank you, thank you!” she repeats.

And then, then followed the moment that truly marked the beginning of the downward spiral that followed. Until this point, he hadn’t truly done anything wrong. 

But that was about to change.

She kissed him on her lips, just like they had always used to do, back in sixth year.

And Ron, foolish as he undeniably was, returned the kiss.

Logically, he knew he shouldn’t have done that, that he shouldn’t have thrown the life he had built for himself out of the window, but it felt so right in that moment.

He kissed her and — this was even worse — they stumbled towards the bedroom he shared with Hermione.

He wished he hadn’t done that, but he did.

The worst thing was that he did not regret his choice, not really.

Apparently — it was a surprise to himself as well — he did still have feelings for Lavender. He hadn’t thought that was the case and why should he?

He had been happy with Hermione. Hell, Ron had only dated Lavender to make Hermione jealous!

But here and now, this was different, somehow.

Actually, that wasn’t quite the worst thing. The actual, true worst thing was, that the whole affair — that was what it was, wasn’t it? — didn’t stop there.

It didn’t stop with a single mistake, partly born from exhaustion, oh no. The two of them continued.

Ron spoke with Harry and Ginny, telling her of what Nicolas was doing to Lavender and they offered her a spare room, which she gladly accepted.

But every time Hermione was working late — and after a few months even more frequently — he would debate calling her over or going to visit her.

He didn’t always do it, although even that soon became a lie. It didn’t take long until he was doing it more often with Lavender than he was with Hermione and — this was yet worse — his feelings seemed to follow accordingly.

The next shock came a few months later. It took the time to prepare, almost as if it was a plan of the universe to lure him into a false sense of security before punishing for his numerous sins.

“I’m pregnant,” Lavender announced, her tone somehow managing to be both happy and terrified at the same time. “And you’re the only possible father.”

And that was when the last of his world finally shattered and he realized how terrible it was what he had done.

Ron let himself fall onto the bed. “Fuck,” he exclaimed. “Fuck, what have I done? What am I doing?”

Actually, he had been wrong before. The true worst thing was that, even now, he knew he wouldn’t stop.


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The history of many people is connected to the Hogsmeade Station.

Over the many years of its existence, many things happened at Hogsmeade Station. Given the location and the reason for it to be there, was it really such a wonder that many of those were bordering on impossible?

Train stations by themselves were an odd place between worlds. A place where people parted and found together everyday and everynight. This one was infused with almost a millennium's worth magic on top of that, so it only made sense that the tales that were told from this place were close to unique.

Hogsmeade Station had been around far longer than trains had existed. The Founders of Hogwarts—four wise men and women from different parts of what would later become Great Britain—they were aware that their students couldn’t just arrive uncoordinated, so they built a place where they could do that a tad more orderly. It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked better than anything else anyone thought up, so they kept it.

It was in 1132 when a young witch with Muggle origins called Lindania fell in love with a wizard, Henry Weasley, whose family had possessed magic since the times of Merlin. The two chose Hogwarts station as the place to meet and run away to start their new life together.

Around a decade later, they returned to bring their son Alexander to the school. He was only the first of several children and Henry and Lindania could be seen at the station every year for many years, always smiling happily.

Sometime in the 1450s, a heated duel between brothers took place at the station. The boys were twins and they disagreed over which one of them was older, which one of them should inherit the things their recently departed parents left behind.

Each brother was greeted by Death on that day and everything went to the third brother, a young boy whose children would carry on the Potter name.

In 1776 a young boy saw the station for the first and last time. He was six years old at the time and by the next year it had become obvious that he, unlike his older brothers and sisters, was not able to perform magic in any way shape or form.

The boy was forced into the streets of London, begging for the mercy of passerbys. Incredibly, a poor Muggle family took him in, thus Christopher Nott became a Granger in everything but blood.

September First, 1888 was the first time a Malfoy was seen at Hogsmeade Station. They had just moved from France and they were prepared to rise into the high society of the British Wizarding World.

By the time Abraxas entered, they had achieved that and more.

The year was 1940 when another young boy saw this station. He was the first out of those mentioned here to see it from the window of a train first. His name was Tom Riddle and the Wizarding World had no idea what he would bring upon them. It took years until they understood the terror that was inspired from this boys mind.

A few girls, like Martha McDonald, got to know it earlier, but no one cared enough to listen to their stories, and even if they did get the chance to speak, no one would believe them.

For now he was just one of many first years, staring in wonder at everything around them.

Lily Evans, unknowing descendant of Christopher Granger, first set foot on the station in 1971. She was next to her best friend Severus Snape, her new acquaintance Emmeline Vance, and, hopefully far away from the horrible boys she had sat with earlier.

A few years later, most of this had changed. She was next to her best friend Emmeline, close to the Marauders, who had helped to pick her up when she was threatening to fall apart, and, hopefully, far away from Severus Snape.

A Generation later, in 1991, a Weasley, a Potter, a Granger, a Nott, and a Malfoy all saw the station at the same time. Not one of them was aware of how their lives were connected not just to each other, but also to the ground beneath their feet.

They discovered the first part over the next several years, but the latter would always remain a mystery for them.

A few years later, in 2002, a young witch stood there on the station, completely frozen.

“I can’t do it, Dennis,” she sobbed. “I can’t tell my parents that I am pregnant.”

“I’ll be right beside you. If your parents have a problem with it, well, I have no control over that. But I know that I won’t leave you alone, Nat.”

The two faced her parents in another place, Platform 9 ¾, but that didn’t matter. Hogsmeade Station still played a role in their story.

A blue haired child could be spotted dragging Harry Potter around on September First, 2009. The boy was Teddy Lupin and he was just about to start his first year at Hogwarts. He knew that he wouldn’t miss the train if he and Harry took a bit more time—it was barely even past 10 am—but the sooner he was on that train, the sooner he would get to learn magic, just like his father Remus, his mother Tonks, and his Dad Harry had before him.

2017 was the year when James Sirius Potter spotted Teddy Lupin snogging his cousin Victoire Weasley at the station. What the thirteen-year-old didn’t tell his was that he had only been able to see them because he was intending to snog the eleven month older Leon Creevey. They didn’t need to know that.

By 2040, the descendants of all those people had become united in two people. One of those is by best friend, Tetius Malfoy, and the other person is me, Amanda Potter-Creevey. My mother, Lauren Lupin, she was the one to inspire me to research my family history when I expressed interest. My Dad, Paul Potter-Creevey, pointed me in the direction I needed to start with.

To be honest, I’m not completely sure what the point of all this is myself, but I know one thing. My life is connected to the Hogsmeade Station closer than anyone could ever expect.


	4. Arresto Momentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had just loudly announced his arrival, but his brother dying was not an option he was willing to consider.

Unknown to the fighters down in the Department of Mysteries, a figure dressed entirely in black, the face covered with a well-worn scarf, crept into the Ministry. 

The figure sprinted through the Atrium, quickly leaving the well behind and entering the lifts. Before the figure had even fully entered through the doors, the button for the lowest floor was already pressed. During the ride, the figure—a slim man—impatiently played with the wand in his hand.

“Come on, go faster, please,” he whispered tensely, but the lift did not react.

The very second the lift had reached the last stop, its sole occupant was already at the door. The man sprinted through the halls with expert knowledge.

It didn’t take long until he arrived at the Death Chamber, where the loudest noise was originating from.

The figure paused at the door and surveyed the scene.

“Come on, you can do better than that!” Sirius quipped as he ducked the red beam of light Bellatrix shot at him.

Just in that moment, a second spell hit him exactly in the chest. His eyes widened and the laughter froze on his face.

Potter Junior let go of Longbottom and began to run towards Sirius, clearly intending to stop and/or follow him. Lupin seemed to be frozen in place.

The figure—Regulus Arcturus Black—could not let that happen.

“ _ Arresto Momentum! _ ” he shouted, pointing at Sirius.

He had just loudly announced his arrival, but his brother dying was not an option he was willing to consider.

Not now, when after years and years of hiding in the shadows to destroy the Dark Lord’s horcruxes, he was finally ready to reveal himself to the world again.

The fight seemed to have paused for a second; just about everyone was staring at him. 

Regulus used the opportunity to quietly send an  _ Avada Kedavra  _ in Bellatrix’s direction.

He aimed correctly and she fell to the ground.

For another second or two, everyone’s gaze was still focused on him, only interrupted by glances at his cousin’s corpse.

“What?” he questioned, shrugging. “The world is better of without her.”

“Well said, brother!” Sirius exclaimed, restarting the fight by shooting a hex at Malfoy.

Regulus is lucky he had this much experience fighting. This way he can perform spells and wonder howif Sirius had recognized his voice after all of those years they had spent apart at the same time. It’s either that or Sirius simply referred to everyone that way.

Due to the—surprisingly effective—work of the teens and Order members, it didn’t take all that long to take care of the other Death Eaters. Admittedly, a large part of what Regulus assumed to be his new side—the question was if they would accept him, not on his wishes.

A great many of them were still aiming to incapacitate, not kill, but since they had strength in numbers, it all worked out.

Still, if— _ if _ —he would be accepted by them, Regulus would have to work on that. He knew better than most that Death Eaters aimed to kill, so fighting in any other way would require them to have another huge advantage and, quite frankly, that wasn’t worth the effort in the long run.

Roughly ten or fifteen minutes after he arrived, the fight had ended and the Order had won.

Immediately after all of the Death Eaters were all rounded up, tied together, and muffled, the Order members turned to him.

“And who are you?” Shacklebolt inquired. (Somehow, the way he raised his eyebrow managed to be incredibly impressive.)

At this prompting, he removed the scarf that had been obscuring his face the entire time.

It didn’t stop Moody and the Aurors from pointing their wands at him, but that 

“Regulus Black.” He bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“...I thought you were dead,” Tonks wondered.

“The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated,” he quoted.

Sirius was not the only one to roll his eyes—although Regulus would swear that he saw someone beam out of the corner of his eyes—but he was the only one to quietly wonder when he had gotten into Muggle Literature.

“Shortly after I intended to die,” he replied drily.

“What?” Lupin questioned, taken aback.

“Yeah, I never expected to get out of the mess I found myself in alive.” Regulus shook his head and chuckled quietly. “Merlin and Morgana know I wouldn’t have if not for Kreacher.”

“So that elf  _ did  _ do something worthwhile,” Sirius muttered. “Who knew?”

“Don’t talk badly about Kreacher,” he ordered, pointing with a finger of his wand-free hand.

“What have you done in roughly the past two decades then?” Lupin attempted to change the topic before it escalated. He also placed a hand on Sirius’ shoulder to hold him back.

“Well, after I recovered from almost drowning, I started to collect and get rid of the Dark Lord’s horcruxes.”

“What,” pretty much everyone deadpanned. Some in horror and some in confusion—thankfully all four of the conscious teens were in the latter group. Though perhaps that was actually a bad thing considering…

Regulus shook his head to clear his thoughts.

“Basically little trinkets of his soul that essentially made him immortal until they were destroyed.”

Longbottom was by far not the only one to be horrified, but since he almost fell onto the unconscious teens he was guarding, his reaction was the most notable one.

“But you did destroy them all?” Tonks asked. “Assuming you’re telling the truth.”

Regulus was actually glad that they weren’t trusting him immediately. It showed that they had more promise than he had thought at the first glance.

And that was a great thing, considering the role they were playing in the war.

“Most of them,” Regulus corrected. “Potter actually destroyed one and there are two left. One being the one leading these guys,” he gestured to the Death Eaters, “and the other...requires a more delicate touch.”

“Why that?” Potter questioned. The kid had to shove several people aside to get eye-contact with him. Lupin and Sirius weren’t the only ones that seemed very protective of this kid. The Weasley girl had a broken ankle and still stood between him and Potter. Even Lovegood looked like threatening him, and she observes the ceiling the whole time!

While the fact that people cared about him certainly was great for Potter, it would not make what Regulus had to do easier at all. He took a deep breath. “Because it is located in your scar.”

And then all hell broke loose.


	5. Holiday at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most students and staff members suspected that she was simply glad to be rid of her numerous responsibilities for a little while. They weren’t wrong, but they also didn’t know all of the reasons. The most major one was one of those missing.

Minerva McGonagall always got pretty giddy—at least by her standards—when the time for holidays arrived.

Most students and staff members suspected that she was simply glad to be rid of her numerous responsibilities for a little while. They weren’t wrong, but they also didn’t know all of the reasons. The most major one was one of those missing.

Just like every other time, Minerva had collected her things and said goodbye to most of her colleagues before the students had even begun boarding the Express, so she was pretty much good to go the second every student was gone.

After exchanging some parting words with the last few staff members and hugging a few of them—like Pomona and Filius—she apparated away, her trunk already shrunken inside her pocket.

She landed in front of the door of a fence that surrounded a near overgrown garden. It didn’t look like it had been ignored; the placement of the plants all seemed very deliberate.

Minerva’s face adopted a small smile as she followed the small, curvy path and observed the changes that had happened since the last time she had had a chance to come here. There seemed to be a new apple tree that promised a good harvest later that year and also many more plants that Minerva couldn’t name.

Plants weren’t really her thing, which was good, since the garden would probably be dead if it was her project.

Then, the cottage finally came into view. The old windows all looked like they had been cleaned fairly recently and the front door was now painted in a strong red tone, not unlike the color of Gryffindor.

And there, on the wooden, double-seat swing set, was her wife Sariose reading a book and—presumably—waiting for her. She wasn’t as tall as Minerva was, but she made up with that with her smile that seemed to make her grow every time. Sariose’s blonde hair was pulled back in a bun, but it wasn’t even close to as tight as Minerva’s usually were and a few strands of hair escaped on either side of her head.

“Honey, I’m home!” Minerva said softly, placing herself next to her wife.

Sariose looked up.

“Min! You’re here!” she exclaimed as she pulled Minerva into a tight hug.

“Yes, I am,” Minerva whispered, gently patting her wife on the back. “But I still need to breathe.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sariose apologised, letting go of her entirely.

“That’s not what I intended, darling,” Minerva chuckled. “Now c’mere and let me kiss you.”

“With pleasure,” Sariose leaned towards her.

* * *

A few hours later, they were eating the dinner they had cooked together. It had taken them a hour or two, but they had so much fun doing it that the result could have been horrible and it would be time well spent.

But it wasn’t. And with the candles that Minerva had lit, the romantic atmosphere was perfect in their eyes.

“You know,” Minerva commented between two bites. “I never thought I would say this, but this might be better than the food of the elves.”

“That’s just because you cooked it yourself, girl.” Sariose shook her head. “Otherwise the food of these elves of yours would be better, I tell you.”

“If you say so,” Minerva replied with a teasing smile.

Sariose pointed towards Minerva with her fork. “Yes, I do, in fact, say so.”

“You’re the expert.”

“That’s right, I am.”

* * *

Later that evening, the two of them were lying on the couch together. Minerva had her arm around her wife.

The two of them were watching some sort of telenova or something, Minerva didn’t really pay enough attention to figure that out.

As far as she was concerned, pretty much anything could have been playing on the TV right now. That was the least of her worries right now, since it was a background noise at most.

All of her attention was focused on her wife who she hadn’t seen in so long.

“I really need to get our chimney connected to the floo or something, so that you could visit on weekends.”

“Oh yes.” Sariose nodded repeatedly. “That seems to be a great solution, since I’m not letting this house go and you need to be there for your students.”

“I’m pretty sure we could move the cottage and the garden closer to Hogwarts if we really wanted to.”

“I like it here, though,” Sariose pointed out. “The smell of the sea just reaches us and here it’s warm enough to go swimming. At least in the summer. And I’m also not sure if the plants would survive that.”

“I know,” Minerva chuckled. “I just wanted to remind you that it is an option.”

“Sometimes, I consider it,” Sariose said after a small pause. “But if you get to live your passion and teach, then I get to live my passion as well.”

“Of course you do, honey,” Minerva assured her. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything else.”

“I know that you didn’t, darling. That was always more of a comment for the side of me that doesn’t know how to stand up for itself.”

“A small side, I’m sure,” Minerva replied. “Since I don’t recall you ever letting anyone make decisions for you.”

“Neither do you,” Sariose pointed out. “Not outside the bedroom at least,” she conceded.

“Speaking of bedroom,” Minerva trailed off, but both women knew exactly what her intention was.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Sariose replied with a grin, standing up and keeping her wife’s hand. “Come on.”


	6. Quid Pro Qou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hestia Carrow _hates_ Herbology.

Hestia Carrow absolutely  _ hated _ Herbology. Really, it was just a bunch of plants and greens, nothing important, nothing valuable. And the fact that the subject pretty much required her to get dirt on her hands didn’t really help.

Except knowing the properties of those things and their effects would help her cut down time in Potions class, as she wouldn’t have to look up what the best way to achieve the desired result would be. And these precious seconds would enable her act more precisely in other eras.

In other words, as much as Hestia despised, she would have to improve. After all, she needed to be the best in Potions if she wanted to pursue her dream of becoming a potioneer.   
Which she did and totally would, thank you very much.

For that to happen, she needed to have a NEWT in Herbology and that required getting an OWL first.

And that was why fifth-year Hestia Carrow was sitting in the Library, surrounded by numerous books of her most hated subjects.

No, she wasn’t enjoying herself at all. What kind of weird question was that?

If Hestia wasn’t a Slytherin, she would likely have pulled her hair in frustration several times already, but her upbringing prevented her from doing it.

Still, she would rather be doing absolutely anything else right now. And that was affecting her attempt at studying as well. Hestia couldn’t focus at all.

Luckily, that managed to work in her favour, as she was able to spot Longbottom enter the section of library she had been in for the last couple of hours or so. The Gryffindor was not only, well, a  _ Gryffindor _ from a Light family, but was a year below her at that.

Only, according to the gossip Pansy Parkinson, among others, had out so much work into discovering and spreading, Neville Longbottom was quite possibly the most knowledgeable student in the school at the moment when it came to Herbology. That usually wouldn’t have cancelled out his numerous faults, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Longbottom,” she called.

The boy turned around with a puzzled expression. Likely he didn’t recognize Hestia’s voice and was looking for someone from a House other than Slytherin as the origin of the call.

She gave a small wave, careful to keep her expression neutral with a hint of annoyance. “You’re looking for me,” she informed him.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” the Gryffindor replied, his voice full of doubt and his eyebrow raised high.

Which was already more reasonable thinking than Hestia had expected of him. If he repeated this, than her whole plan might even work out.

“It is reasonable for you to think that, yes,” she agrees, giving him a small nod before motioning towards all of her books. “Unfortunately, I require your help.”

Cautiously, Longbottom stepped closer towards her table. His right hand was bent, probably so that he would be able to take the wand from the holster Hestia suspected his wand was in. After all, that was by far the most logical explanation for this motion and Dowager Longbottom seemed sensible enough to insist on a hoster.

“You need help in Herbology,” Longbottom concluded after a few seconds of scanning the various books and notes.

“Exactly.” Hestia moved her hair out of her face with a swift motion. “Word is, that you are the best to ask for that.”   
“Why can’t your sister help you?” Longbottom questioned, but he made another step in her direction. “Or any other Slytherin for that matter.”

“I only accept the best,” Hestia explained. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but she did omit a few things Longbottom had no business of knowing.

The Gryffindor angled his head to the side and hums. “Sure. But tell me one thing: why should I help you?”

Hestia smiled. It was a real smile, which didn’t really happen often for her. However, Longbottom had managed to impress her twice within the span of minutes. That deserved some recognition.

Raising an eyebrow, she questioned, “You need help in Potions, don’t you?” She paused for a moment, until he nodded. “Well, that’s my best subject. So what I propose is: you help me and in turn I help you. A quid pro quo, so to say. What do you think?” 

“I’d say that that sounds reasonable,” he replied with a nod, but he didn’t move any closer. In fact, he turned towards the shelves again.

Hestia waited a minute before she prompted. “Well?”

“I am not going to start doing it right now, am I?” Longbottom chuckled.

“Of course you’re not.” She shook her head, a smile on her lips that wasn’t even close to as real as the previous one. in fact, she was fighting of a frown for a reason even she herself didn’t know. “Nevertheless, Longbottom, we would need to agree on a time.”

Longbottom turned back towards her and stepped closer. “Call me Neville,” he said in an authoritative tone. At least for him it was one. “I just need to get an essay done, then we can start, if you want to.”

So soon? “You do that,” she replied accompanying it with a shrug. “I’ll be right here. As I’ve been for the entire day.”

“You should take a break, Hestia.”

The way he drew out her name clearly suggested that he was guessing as well as requesting permission, so she confirmed it with a nod before she argued that she needed to get this done.

“Since when are you a Ravenclaw?” He chuckled. “I thought only they, Hermione, and Percy Weasley did that to themselves.”

“Well, you know, I  _ am  _ a Slytherin,” Hestia replied. 

“Yes, but choosing ambition over basic self-preservation? Staying in the library all day and going hungry?” Neville shook his head. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that doesn’t sound very Slytherin to me.”

“You may have a point there.” Hestia pointed her quill in the Gryffindor’s direction as her stomach agreed. “I think I’ll go to the kitchen while you write that essay. Maybe see the sun for a few minutes,” she added as she saw out of the window. Somehow she had completely missed the fact that it was a really nice day outside.

“You do that,” Neville quoted. “I’ll be right here.”


	7. put a flower in your hair

Life wasn’t particularly fair to Jasminder Potter. She by far isn’t the only one where this is the case, but she is the one we are talking about right now.

One of the many things that happened to her was that Fate took her parents from her not very long after she was born. Barely more than a year, she was too young to have any memories of them.

Or she should have been.

You see, Jasminder Potter was a special little child. Her parents had noticed, of course. They had looked forward to observing their child — a little being that was something of both of them and yet it’s completely own — all throughout Lily’s pregnancy. So it was no wonder that they quickly became aware of the many ways in which their little son was special.

Yes, you read that correctly. Lily and James Potter thought they had a son.

That was another bad card that Fate dealt Jasminder Potter, but she learned to deal with it. It wasn’t even that hard, especially once she had found some friends.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves, so let us get back to the point.

Harry Potter was a very smart child. It took her mere months to start walking and talking and even reading along in the books that her parents read to her. She didn’t know that that was unusual and how could she? It wasn’t like she had any comparison.

It wasn’t long until her parents noticed, and boy, were they proud. They barely ever stopped bragging about Harry and praising her.

They had every right to be, too.

* * *

Before her parents were killed, Jasminder’s life — of course, back then her name was Harry, so that’s what we will use until it is time — was wonderful.

Her parents were attentive and kind. She had two amazing uncles, who came to visit her practically every day — and one that rarely stopped by — and she had fun whenever she was awake. 

Then, her life turned upside down.

Her parents were attacked and killed, for reasons she would only discover years and years later. At that moment though, it didn’t matter _why_ they were killed, just that they did.

Because Harry’s happy life pretty much ended at that point.

Instead of going to her Uncle Padfoot or her Uncle Moony, she went to her Aunt Petunia and her horrible family.

The fact that they all called her “boy” was just so _wrong_ . It had never really been an issue before — his parents and uncles talked _to_ her, not _about_ her or when they did, they used her name — so it was somehow worse.

She tried to protest, but it was pointless. They wouldn’t listen to her, instead sticking to ignoring her whenever they could.

The three of them — Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley — preferred to live their lives in front of the television, which Harry found completely boring — at least, the shows that these people were watching.

But it was fine. At least that left her free to explore the library — a good book was so much more interesting than any show she had ever caught a glimpse of — and before she even started school, she had already read a big part of it.

* * *

 

Harry knew that his life could only get better when Dudley was in another class than him in school. She was only enrolled because a neighbor had seen her and asked Petunia if she would start school this year.

It took Petunia a few seconds to remember she even had a niece.

The Dursleys mainly ignored her, yes, but unfortunately that extended to food and stopped whenever she messed up ever so slightly. All three of them loved to yell at and humiliate her or to treat her as a servant — ”It’s our good right to,” Petunia had said one time, eyeing her russet skin with a frown.

She got back at them, in secret. That’s what she had learned from her parents and uncles back when she was little.

If someone is mean to someone — not necessarily you, just someone — you get back at them. You have to pay attention to never let it get worse than what they had done.

 _Defending, not bullying_ , that was how her mother had summed it up.

There was a girl at her school that Harry spotted Dudley and a few of his ‘friends’ attempting to bully. Since there was no reason to let that happen to the poor kid, Harry stepped in.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked, acting braver than she felt.

“Yeah,” the other girl — she assumed — protested, stepping closer to the boys. Harry noticed she really liked this girl’s dark, freckled, broad nose. It really suited her. And the black locks perfectly framed her face.

“Like, I’m pretty sure the cafeteria is already open,” the girl quipped, interrupting her thoughts. She paused to look the boys up and down, an eyebrow raised. “And you guys look like you’d be more interested in that than anything else around here.”

“I know for a fact that your Mummy happened to forget your lunchbox at home, Diddy,” Harry added. She had been responsible for it, but that wasn’t the point here. “I’m sure you’re _starving_ already. I mean, you haven’t eaten in, like, four hours.”

The other girl faked a gasp, putting her hands in front of her mouth for a second. “You must be wasting away! Now, shoo.”

Amazingly enough, the boys actually left after that. They were grumbling promises of their return, but neither girl cared at that moment.

“Thank you,” the girl said. “You didn’t need to help me.”

“But I could and, consequently, I should,” Harry insisted.

“That’s nice of you. I’m Lavender by the way.” She held her hand out in front of her while she introduced herself. Her hands were really delicate and she was wearing a few silver rings.

Harry took it. “I’m Harry. Don’t let the name fool you, though, I am a girl.”

“Alright then,” Lavender said with a smile. “I love your hair by the way.”

Harry self-consciously took one of her locks and eyed it. She had started to grow it out and it had left the awkward phase only last week.

“Thank you. I can’t figure out how I braid it, though. Also, your rings look really nice.”

Lavender beamed with pride. “Thank you. What me to teach you? I can do five different kinds of braids.”

In that precise moment, a great friendship began.

* * *

 

Harry met another great person that day. This second person was his teacher, Remus Lupin.

Mr. Lupin was the first adult who cared enough to notice — and before the first day ended at that — that Harry was too skinny with way too large clothes. Especially, once you considered the nice house his family was living in, the multiple cars that Vernon owned, and the statue of him and Dudley.

Before that Mr. Lupin noticed how intelligent and well-read she was. Not simply for her age, but in general. It took Harry virtually no time to finish her work and start helping Lavender and other students who asked for her help. It was better than just sitting there, so it was not even a choice.

Yet before that, Harry realized something about Mr. Lupin.

“I remember you,” Harry breathed in amazement as soon as she entered the classroom, pausing in the door and blocking the way. “I remember you,” he repeated a bit louder. “You’re Moony.”

Her teacher’s eyes widened and his eyebrows seemed to be trying to hid in his hair. “You remember?”

Harry nodded. “I do.”

That was the moment she noticed she was blocking the way and moved to the side.

“Let’s talk about this after class,” he proposed once he regained composure. “And stick to calling me Mr. Lupin while in class, alright?”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and sat down next to Lavender.

* * *

“Before we start this conversation, there is something you need to know,” Harry stated after the last student — Lavender — hesitatingly left the room. “I am not, in fact, a boy. I’m a girl. I always was.”

Harry stood there silently, his mind running wild with horror stories of rejection.

It took Remus a few moments to reply, but when he did, it wasn’t anything that Harry expected. “Jasminder.”

“Excuse me?” Harry blinked a couple of times. “What did you just say?”

“Jasminder,” Remus repeated. “It’s the name your parents would have given you had they known you are a girl. They liked it not only because of the way it sounds, but because it fits into the tradition of naming girls after flowers that the past five generations of Lily’s family kept up while also being an Indian name, thus showing James’ pride in his heritage.”

“Jasminder,” Harry sounded the name out. “Jasminder. I think I like that.”

 From that moment onwards, her name was Jasminder.

 And, for the first time in a very long while, she felt like she was home.


	8. Technical Difficulties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, it hadn’t been very much. Her family hadn’t seen the point in filling it again when she would ‘have access to the family vaults of a respected line’.
> 
> Yeah. That wasn’t what happened.

Eileen Prince had met her husband at a place she never had suspected when she was younger: the supermarket.

She had just barely been out of Hogwarts, and had moved out of her parent’s home at the very first chance she had gotten. They had wanted her to marry the younger Crabbe and, eh, no?

So she had run away. She had never unpacked her things from Hogwarts, instead adding the few things that she hadn’t taken with her, shrinking the trunk, and claiming to go out for a midnight stroll.

As soon as she had passed the wards, she had apparated to London. Eileen had gone to Gringotts — they never closed, which gave the non-humans, like vampires, naga, and incubi the time to handle their finances separately from most witches and wizards, thus increasing the profit for the Goblin nation — and gotten everything she had owned out of her trust vault and exchanged it for Muggle money.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been very much. Her family hadn’t seen the point in filling it again when she would ‘have access to the family vaults of a respected line’.

Yeah. That wasn’t what happened.

She had gone to the Muggle side of London, because that had been the last place her family would look. With the help of one of her half-blood friends, she had rented an apartment where she had crashed for the night.

The next morning, she had been standing in the grocery store, trying in vain to figure out the way Muggle money actually worked, when a nice young man offered to help.

Looking back, Eileen wasn’t sure what he had thought her problem was — maybe he had thought she was an immigrant? — but he had stepped up to her and explained everything she asked for.

He had been so nice and helpful that she had readily agreed to see him again when he had asked.

“My name is Tobias,” he had introduced himself. “Tobias Snape.”

“Eileen Prince,” she had replied, doing a small curtsy, mostly out of habit. It had occurred to her a second too late that this wasn’t custom in the Muggle World anymore.

However, Tobias had simply smiled at her, like she had been the funniest thing he had seen in awhile.

Eileen had fallen for him, and she had fallen hard.  
It had barely taken three months until they had been married.

And that was when the trouble had begun.

The places they had met in hadn’t been all that different from those in the Wizarding World, and her apartment barely had any Muggle technology.

So when she had moved in with her husband and found a lot of things she had never seen outside of pictures the very second she stepped through the door, she knew that she had a problem.

Eileen hadn’t found the right time to tell him that she was a witch yet. She had known that, at that point, she really should have said something — especially since it had been legal the second they had been married — but she hadn’t.

Learning to operate the TV — her husband's pride and joy, the thing he had spent months saving money for — wasn’t a problem. Eileen had simply explained to her husband that she came from a very traditional family and he had explained it to her.

“You push this button here, the power button, to turn it on,” he said, demonstrating it as he went along. “Then there is this switch for volume—you turn it to the left if it’s too loud and to the right when it is too quiet—and this one to choose a channel. There aren’t many, but I’m sure you’ll find something you’ll enjoy.”

“I’m sure I will,” Eileen had smiled at her husband, but she hadn’t been so sure about that.

The first instance had been fine. 

The second time something like this happened had been weird — “Who doesn’t know what a fridge is?”. 

By the third time, he had gotten suspicious — “You have to know what an oven is!”— especially since they had all happened within hours of each other.

And the fourth time…

“You enter the numbers with the wheel, and wait to be connected to the call! Sweet Jesus, from what backwater planet do you come from that you haven’t even heard of them!?” He had said, throwing his hands into the air.

“No TV, fine, I can believe that. Maybe the fridge and the oven if you were from an arrogant rich family that doesn’t give a damn about their servants. But you have to have heard of a telephone at least!”

“As I said,” Eileen had stuttered,” my family is very traditional and-”

“Yeah, no.” Tobias had crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “The telephone’s been around for a while. There is absolutely no way you came from a somewhat normal family and haven’t heard of that. So tell me, dear wife, how on earth you managed to avoid knowing what a freaking telephone is!”

Eileen had gulped and taken a deep breath. “You may want to sit down for this.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” Tobias had said. “I’ve decided that I quite like standing.”

“Alright,” she had agreed.

And she had explained. She had told him what she was and that she had fled. She hadn’t dared to look into Tobias’s face as she did so.

“And you didn’t think to maybe tell me before I married you?! No, of course not! You most likely bewitched me or something!”

“Tobias, no, I would never-” she had sobbed.

He had slapped her.

“Quiet! This is still my house and you may have taken the choice of a wife from me, but I am the one who decides the rules in this house!”

And, of course, it was on the very next day that Eileen had discovered she had become pregnant.


	9. starry night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, them,” Ginny nodded and grabbed the left strap of her backpack. Why did adjusting this have to be so difficult? “It’s just, I thought they were a lost civilization or something, so why are we looking inside the current one?”

“Are you sure that this is the right way?” Ginny questioned, adjusting the right strap of her backpack for what felt like the thousandth time today. She was following Luna out of the Anormal Avenue—which was the local equivalent to Diagon Alley—and into the crowded streets of the city of St. Louis.

“Of course I am,” her girlfriend replied nonchalantly, taking a bright blue quill out of her hair and writing something down on a piece of parchment she had produced out of nowhere. 

The redhead let her backpack fall normally, but now the left side seemed wrong. It was a constant struggle. “It’s just, I thought we were looking for the Coika—”

“Cahokia,” Luna corrected absently. She put the quill back into her hair for a second and replaces the parchment with a map out of her countless pockets.

“Yes, them,” Ginny nodded and grabbed the left strap of her backpack. Why did adjusting this have to be so difficult? “It’s just, I thought they were a lost civilization or something, so why are we looking inside the current one?”

Luna laughed lightly as she made a note on her map. “We’re not at our goal yet, silly. It’s just more reasonable to start out in a city. We can gather the last supplies and such.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Ginny acknowledged. “I didn’t think of that.”

“You have other strengths,” the blonde replied casually. “Like Quidditch. Or cooking.”

“Yeah, unfortunately adjusting backpack straps doesn’t seem to be one of those,” Ginny huffed. “I give up!”

Luna stopped and turned around, still in the process of returning the map to the pockets of her dress. “Here, let me help.”

Ginny gladly agreed and her girlfriend finally managed to get the backpack to sit the way it was supposed to. “Thank you,” she said, planting a kiss on Luna’s head.

The smaller girl got on her toes and kissed Ginny on her mouth as response.

They each grabbed the other’s hair, thus closing the distance between them. Neither of them cared that they were on an open street. For them, there was no one else. They were completely alone in the world in that moment.

“I thought we were supposed to work?” Ginny chuckled when they finally parted again a minute or so later.

“We are,” Luna confirmed. “That, however doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun as well.”

“Well, I certainly agree with you there,” Ginny nodded enthusiastically. “That was most definitely enjoyable.”

“Now, come along.” The smaller girl skipped away and motioned for her girlfriend to follow her. “The train is leaving soon and I want to get over the Mississippi before dusk.”

“I’m coming,” Ginny confirmed, hurrying to catch up. Really, she wasn’t sure how Luna managed to be so fast in heels.

And so they went to catch a train out of the city, through the suburbs, all the way out to the river. Once they had reached that part of the area, they sneaked to the roof of the train, disillusioned themselves, and jumped down. 

Of course, they used magic to slow their fall, but it was great fun nonetheless.

They helped each other up and Ginny dusted off her clothes while Luna decided not to bother, since they were likely to get dirty again anyways.

“Okay, I know I’ve literally asked this question, like, a million times, but bear with me.” Ginny paused to find her girlfriend’s eyes. “Why do you think that you can find the—”

“Cahokia,” Luna inserted helpfully.

“Them, yes. Why do you think you can find them here? Alive and thriving at that?” 

“Well,” Luna explained, “the Muggles think that they likely moved to other places because or disease and famine or environmental factors or something along these lines. I think that they, in fact, chose to hide, just like the people of Atlantis and Avalon did.”

Ginny didn’t point out that no one ever found evidence of Atlantis or anyone other than Merlin existing. She could have, just like she could have done on countless occasions before, but she chose not to. Luna was her girlfriend and if she thought that it was possible, then Ginny would give her the chance to prove it not only to her but to the world.

Which is why they they were here now.

“Lead the way,” the redhead commented with a smile, after she snatches another quick kiss.

“I will,” Luna replied. She took out her map again, looked at it for a minute, and turned once around herself, before pointing in the direction of Ginny. “That way.”

Luna almost ran forward, taking Ginny’s hand and pulling her along.

Ginny never had a good sense of time and being with Luna only ever made it worse, so she had no idea how long they were walking more and more away from the roads and noise of civilization. She only knew that by the time the sky began to darken, the two of them had to stop and pull their hair backward, as they likely should have done all along.

Neither of them was very tired, so they decided that they could continue walking for another hour or so.

And it was a good thing they did, because not long after their break they were able to feel the waves of magic that Bill had showed her how to. Of course, it likely wouldn’t have been possible to feel it under normal circumstances, but Harry was kind enough to donate them an emerald that was supposed to enhance their abilities somehow; Ginny hadn’t really understood everything.

The thing that mattered was that the magic was there. Luna simply smiled confidently, like she had expected this all along and Ginny couldn’t help but get excited. Had Luna actually been right?

Now it was her that took Luna’s hand and dragged her girlfriend in the direction this was originating in.

After a few minutes, they reached a stone with a simplified drawing of a man with wings instead of arms engraved in it.

This was the strongest point, the origin of the magic, there was no doubt about that.

“So, what do we do now?” Ginny asked excitedly.

Luna smiled. “Now we wait.”

“What?” Ginny was completely baffled. “Why that?”

“We don’t know for sure why they hid. By waiting here peacefully and sleeping a night under those wonderful stars, we can prove them that we aren’t hostile. That makes it more likely that they will open their doors for us. And if they don’t, that’s fine too.”

“But—” Honestly, Ginny wasn’t sure what she would have said if Luna hadn’t interrupted her.

“It’s not our right to drag them out in the open if they don’t want to. If they want to stay hidden, that’s their choice.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Ginny realized. “It’s their business whether or not they want to interact with other people. Quite frankly, hiding from the world actually seems like a really good idea now that I think about it.”

“I personally wouldn’t say that,” Luna states calmly as she sits down and looks at the stars. “I think that’s just running away from your problems. But it’s not my right to make decisions for other people, is it?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sweet Merlin, I’d probably manage to make _Bellatrix_ look sane if something happens to you, _especially_ if I have the opportunity to prevent it beforehand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated writing this, but I'm proud of the result.  
> I think.

“Promise me that you won’t take needless risks,” Bartemius Crouch holds his boyfriend’s arms next to Regulus’s body. Regulus had just to him of his intention to visit the have cave he found. The very cave that hides the Dark Lord’s horcrux.

Barty maintains his pose, his blue eyes making contact with Regulus grey ones. “Promise me, that you’ll be careful, that I’ll get to see you again after this.”

Regulus desperately wants to nod and agree—there is nothing he would like to do more at this moment—but he is too honest to do that. So instead of lying to his boyfriend, he sighs.

“You know quite well that I can’t promise you that.” Regulus shakes his head. “That I’ll return, I mean,” he clarifies. He frees his arm and reaches up to stroke through Barty’s long, straight hair. “Of course I’ll do my best to survive, but I simply cannot guarantee it, not matter how much I wish I could.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t let me join you on this mission of yours,” Barty replies, pushing Regulus away slightly. Regulus can’t recall him ever doing that before and he feels his heart crack a little bit more—it hasn’t been whole since Sirius left.

“It would make one hell of a lot more sense than you going there without me, you have to admit,” Barty demands. It is obvious what he wants to hear, but that is unfortunately the very thing that Regulus is not comfortable with.

“It’s too dangerous,” the shorter of the two—by half an inch—attempts to explain, but Barty cuts him off.

“Then you shouldn’t do it either,” Barty argues and crosses his arms. “If it’s too dangerous for both of us, then it most definitely is true for you alone as well.”

Regulus adjusts his ponytail, as he always does when he is nervous. “I don’t want to drag you into this,” he attempts a second strategy. He needs to convince his boyfriend to let him go alone, he  _ needs  _ to. Letting him go along would mean…

Regulus shakes his head slightly to dismiss the thought.

Of course, Barty is not willing to accept this either. “I’m your boyfriend, any mess of yours is mine by default. I’m not letting you do that alone.”

Why does he have to make it so difficult? Honestly, a part of Regulus regrets ever telling Barty what he is planning to do.

“I will not be alone, though,” Regulus points out, even if he is pretty confident that it will do nothing to persuade Barty. “Kreacher is coming with me.”

Barty shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kreacher? Kreacher doesn’t fucking count! He’s a house elf-”

“And able to pass wards as well as perform magic we cannot,” Regulus inserts. It’s a fair, point and forgotten way too often. 

“- who you will probably order to save himself instead of you if something happens!” Barty runs a hand through his short hair. “Don’t even try to deny it, Reg! We both know you will.”

As much as he would like to deny it, to prove Barty wrong and denounce his point, Regulus just can’t. He shuffles his feet a bit as he stares at them for a second.

“See? I am right. Let me join you! Maybe together we have a chance!”

Barty is begging at this point, Regulus realizes with a jolt. Actually begging. He had not done that...ever before. In fact, the taller man had once told him that there is little he despises more than that.

“I don’t want to watch you die! Or have you watch me die!” That is the true reason, even if Regulus himself is only aware that it is the case when he speaks the words. The things he had thought were his reason before are nothing more than excuses, that much is clear now. He wonders how he hadn’t grasped this before, but he shoves that thought aside to look back at Barty.

The distance between the two of them is smaller now; Barty must have taken a step forwards in the second Regulus had distracted himself.

“But, Regulus,” he whispers, his voice just barely audible. Which again poses a stark contrast to Barty’s normal behaviour. Barty has always been loud and out there since Regulus had gotten to know him.

“If you were to die, it doesn’t matter if I see it or not,” Barty admits. “I’ll go insane either way. Sweet Merlin, I’d probably manage to make  _ Bellatrix  _ look sane if something happens to you,  _ especially _ if I have the opportunity to prevent it beforehand.  _ Please _ , let me help you!” This isn’t simply begging anymore. It has progressed into tearful sobbing and if there is one thing that Regulus has no idea whatsoever how to handle, this is it.

Regulus closes the space between them almost completely and wipes the tears that managed to escape his boyfriend’s eyes away. 

“Alright,” he breathes, letting their foreheads touch each other. “Come with me. Help me steal a horcrux of the Dark Lord. You know the consequences as well as I do.”

“Most likely death,” Barty nods. “Either by a trap or because we’re caught. But it doesn’t matter as long as I’m with you. If you died along, I’d never smile again until I am reunited with you in the life after death.”

And Regulus cannot do anything but pull Barty in these last few centimetres and snog him until they have to part for air.


	11. it's not paranoia if they're out to get you (but what if they aren't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bunch of OCs

She had always loved it, letting the wind blow through her hair as she rode a broomstick through the skies of first her home and then, later, Beauxbatons. She didn’t even mind if it was during what could possibly be called a snow storm, like it was now.

It was a shame to think that this might be her last time doing it during the day, but it was the truth.

Leila Lahaye would die tonight, there was no denying it, and she was voluntarily making her way towards her death. Granted, it would not be a permanent type, but it would be a drastic change nevertheless. 

Leila would do anything to protect her little sister Adélie, even if it meant that she would become undead. It was the only way she could protect Adélie from the threats that were forming in the shadows.

Becoming a part of them seemed like the only sensible choice. How else could she know what was going on, what they were planning, and how to get sweet innocent Adélie far, far away from it all?

Leila would not risk it. Ever since they discovered that Adélie was a squib, Leila had not stopped worrying about her for a second. How could she, with both Grindelwald and Voldemort out to conquer Europe in the last century and Merlin knew what else?

Nicolas Flamel had died, and if he wasn’t safe with his over six hundred years of experience, then who was?

Her little sister was only seven years old. It was her duty as the older sister by over a decade to make sure she survived. After all, there was no one else left to do it, with the possible exception of Lucien, but he was only fourteen. Their mother has died during their little brother’s birth—the boy itself had died before then—and their father had followed them earlier this year after a horrible case of dragon pox. Had they not managed to get permission for Adélie and their father to stay at Beauxbatons, Leila would have left the school without a second thought.

Protecting Adélie was what she did, and thus it was not essentially different from what she was doing now.

She shook her head as she began leaning forward as she approached her destination. She had flown for a while and had been deep enough in thought that she barely noticed that the sun had set some time before.

Night was always the time when shadows became more pronounced than ever. That’s when Adélie was in the most danger, that’s when Leila should be with her the most.   
But it was fine. She was here so she will be able to help Adélie better than ever before. And Lucien was with her. He could help Adélie.

The snow got stronger once she landed. Her footprints were at least an inch deep as she made her way to the person waiting to her under an oddly single lamp.

* * *

Adélie lied in the arms over her older brother Lucien.

“Where is Leila?” she asked. Their oldest sister was normally always around her, so it was more than strange for her not to be.

Lucien sighed. “You know how she’s convinced that we’re all in danger of dying soon, especially you?”

Adélie nodded. It was rather hard to miss, after all. She didn’t know where her older sister got the idea, though. At the moment, everything seemed to be rather calm and she had managed to get Lucien to swear to tell her if that changes in ways Adélie could not see herself for whatever reason.

“She’s convinced herself that she needs to be a vampire to protect you. I have no idea how she got to that conclusion, before you ask.” Lucien held his hands up in front of him. “I tried to stop her, but she is too stubborn.”

“Is it terrible that I don’t want her to come back?” Adélie questioned quietly, searching for Lucien’s bright green eyes.

Lucien began to stroke through her hair. “Why do you want that?”

Adélie thought for a moment and then sat up as she explains. She winced a bit as one of Lucien’s fingers had been caught in a tangle, but it was fine.

“She’s always her usually. She’s so... overbearing? I think that’s what it’s called?” Lucien nodded and Adélie continued. “Leila never lets me do anything on my own and nothing is ever really fun when she’s around. I get that she wants to protect me, that she’s trying to keep me safe now that Dad is also gone, but it’s just too much.”

Lucien nodded slowly. “That she’s going to be a vampire has nothing to do with it?”

Adélie angled her head to the side. “I don’t think so. I know that most vampires can control their thirst after a year or so and that Leila would never hurt me.”

“But what if she hurts other people?” Lucien inquired.

“Then I don’t want her around me at all anymore,” Adélie admitted quietly.

“I understand that,” Lucien agreed. “But let us talk about something else now, shall we?”

* * *

Leila never came back.

She was turned into a vampire, but when she tried to still her new lust for blood after the transformation was over, she went to the next best person.

And that person happened to be a wizard near the top of the government. Safe to say that she was escorted to prison shortly thereafter, as her trial did not take all that long.


	12. if you look into the mirror and don't like what you see (you have an idea what it's like to be me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In another life, Sirius Black had shared a compartment with James Potter. In another life, he had gotten reinforcement about being a Gryffindor and that had made him brave enough to actually be sorted there.

In another life, Sirius Black had shared a compartment with James Potter. In another life, he had gotten reinforcement about being a Gryffindor and that had made him brave enough to actually be sorted there.

In another life, Sirius befriended James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. He gets out of the torture that is his home life and he begins to heal. He becomes an animagus for a werewolf and is the best man when a pureblood marries a muggleborn.

In another life, Sirius fights against the Death Eaters and their ideas. These ideas are  _ wrong  _ and  _ disgusting _ in his mind and he cannot believe why this was taught to him as a child.

In another life, Sirius is a good person.

Not in this one.

In this life, Sirius sits alone until his cousin Narcissa enters and takes him to a compartment with her and her friends. They sit together and laugh about the muggleborns who have no idea how anything works. They talk about the other members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and how sad it is that so few of them remain.

In this life, Sirius doesn’t get sorted into Gryffindor, but in Slytherin, aside his family, where he belongs.

In this life, there is no one to teach him that people other than pureblood are worth the life they are living, the space they take, and the air they breathe. No, in this life, Sirius just sort of slips into becoming a servant of Lord Voldemort.

It seems like the right thing to do, he’s protecting their society from the filth that threatens to overhaul their values, right?

He must be doing the right thing, after all, everyone is proud of him. His mother is cheering on him and his father has finally stopped to give him these stares of disappointment. Regulus looks up at him, like Sirius is Merlin himself.

It’s a really nice feeling, being appreciated.

* * *

During the first raid that both he and his cousin Bellatrix had been on, they had started a little competition.

Who is the most successful? Who made the world a tiny bit better by killing off more Muggles and Mudbloods?

Yeah, they make a challenge out of it. It make it even more fun than it already is. Because what else could this be, if not fun? They are a improving the world a little bit, every single time that they go out, after all.

It brings a smile on all of their faces, because there is no reason it shouldn’t.

Once time, Sirius alone manages to kill of a hundred Muggles during a raid. No one else has been able to touch his score and he is quite proud of that.

Or he is, right up until Bellatrix points out that he is way behind when it comes to using them for a bit of pleasure before getting rid of them.

“No one’s gonna look at you twice if you use a man, if that’s your problem,” she says once time, after a meeting, when the two of them are alone. “You’re just about the only one who isn’t doing it, despite the fact that you are among the better half in other areas. It’s quite odd.”

And that is when it hits him how horrible the things are he has done since he graduated school. He’s not quite sure what exactly of Bellatrix’s statement it is, but it makes Sirius realize that Muggles and Mudbloods are still human.

And Sirius has hurt, tortured, and killed so, so incredibly many of them. He had made a game out of it.

He feels sick.

Giving Bellatrix a flimsy excuse that she can likely see right through, he apparates home. It’s not like she will realize his crisis of faith, she is way to convinced of the cause to even think about suggesting the mere idea of such thing.

But Sirius sits at home, curled into a small ball in the quietest corner he has, slowly rocking himself back and forth.

What he’s been doing can’t have been right. Why had he even done it? Because everyone had been doing it? That’s not a proper reason to do anything. Many people can be wrong, after all.

Because his family was proud of him? If the latter, when had he begun to care what his family thought of him?

How had he not seen that the people he had been doing just about everything horrible but raping to were just that,  _ people _ ? How could he have missed something so glaringly obvious?

Sirius takes a deep breath. This cannot continue any longer. He does not want to be a part of something like this ever again, but he is well aware that he has no chance of ever getting out. Not without help, at least, and he certainly will not receive it from anyone. They either wouldn’t approve of him getting out or not believe he is not a spy.

Slowly, he begins to look for his wand. 

He laughs dryly through all the tears, because he still gets away with way less than he deserves, with way less than he has made others suffer through. He deserves to rot in Azkaban, but he is too much of a coward for something like that. Sirius is picking the easy way out here.

He raises his wand to his own neck and mutters the words he has used so often. The same words that he had used to condemned so many, teared countless families apart, and end an incredible number of lies prematurely.

_ Avada Kedavra _


	13. what are we even fighting for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a ww1 au

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like accents.

_ A German forest, circa 1915 _

The first time she sees these two men stumbling in the woods, the ones that looks similar from a distance but don’t sound like it at all, Lily herself is hiding in a tree. Not in the crown of one, but literally inside of a hollow tree.

It is one of her hiding places and it is necessary, as otherwise someone may see her change uniforms. It had taken her a bit of practice to be able to do this, but as there are two major reasons for that to have horrible consequences, so it is a necessary pain.

The first  being, that as far as anyone alive is aware, she is a male named Ivan. That had been a lie she had told to get accepted into the Russian Army.

The second being that changing from the uniform of one country to that of another isn’t exactly something that lets people ask questions before shooting. In times of peace, maybe, but not this close to the trenches in a war that has been going on for almost two years now and that had been brewing for far longer.

But Lily is a spy. She spies on the German troops and had gotten them to think she was one of their men months ago. They thought that she is spying on her people for them, but that is not the case at all. Lily—or rather Ivan—gives them just enough real information to be believable, while keeping the lies just far enough of the truth to be useless. She may just be a simple piece in the chessboard that is this war, but that doesn’t mean she can’t try to be the queen.

“They said that this Ivan usually appears around here,” the man in the British uniform informs his companion in the best King’s English Lily has ever heard. It almost sounds like an actual apology—one born out of friendship, not duty—but surely that is impossible.

“It zeemz like ‘e is not,” the other man replies. And that is a French accent if she has ever heard one. Which she has. “We need ‘is ‘elp to save mon frère from ze Germans! Zey ‘ave ‘ad ‘im for almost two months now!”

“I bloody well know that, Sirius!” the first one argues. “I cannot do more than ask the most reliable sources I have, can I?” He sounds oddly desperate, as if he really cares about the other man’s brother to go behind enemy lines, despite there being a strong likelihood that he had only met the brothers here. That is more than astonishing, honestly. Lily has met people that would not even think of doing that for their own brother and here is a Brit doing it for a Frenchman.

It is just interesting enough for her to reveal herself, as she had luckily managed to get clothed in the Russian Uniform they likely are expecting. She waits until the two men can’t see her hiding place to leave it and come towards them from an entirely different direction.

“I heard that you are in need of my help?”

“Yes, we do,” James replies after a moment. “Our contacts never told us you are so handsome, Ivan.”

“‘e’s right,” his companion agrees.

“You’re not looking so bad yourselves. Now, I believe you mentioned something about a prisoner you have to free from the German forces?”

* * *

_ A trench, roughly the same time _

“I really don’t know if I kan kontinue doing this,” Barty whispers as he sets the second meal of this week—it is Thursday if he hasn’t lost track of time—at Regulus’s feet.

“I know,” Regulus replies as he moves forward to take it. “I zank you for what you ‘ave done so far. Never would I ‘ave expected treatment like zis when your people caught me.”

Barty sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You korrupted me. Your stupid French charm haz korrupted me.”

Regulus gives him a weak grin before he stabs the meal again with the fork that definitely isn’t starting to rust. “You ‘ave done the same to me, mon cœur, so I am not sure if I am entirely responsible ‘ere.”

Barty is quite tense as he continues. “If anyone katches me giving you more food-”

“Both of us will be killed, I know,” Regulus interrupts, somehow managing to swallow a huge bite of the ration . “I welcome you doing zis for me, but if ze choice is between food and your survival, I would rather ‘ave ze latter.”

“They never told us how nice and attraktive you people are. It vas always just ‘Erbfeind’. I don’t even know why,” Barty adds the last part after a pause.

“Wasn’t very different for me,” Regulus answers once he has finished the ration of—honestly, it is probably better if he does not know what he just ate. “Let the people in charge ‘ate each ozer, zat does not stop us from doing ze opposite.”

“Nicely said,” Barty comments as he gathers the utensils and makes a move to leave the cell. With a deep breath, he turns back around and gives Regulus a kiss.

“I really hope that your brother really komes and finds you. Should both of us survive, I promise you, we will meet again,” he whispers.

Regulus holds the other man’s face. “I know zat we will. It will be the two of us living somewhere—maybe in America—and constantly ‘aving to fend of Sirius and zat boyfriend of ‘is. Ze only zing separating us from zat is time,” he says before letting go of Barty so that the man can leave.

He is trying to convince himself just as much as Barty. Both of them are aware that it is so much more likely for them to die than to survive. Should all four of them survive, it would border to a miracle.

But men must be allowed to dream in these dark times. There isn’t much more one can do.


End file.
